What the birds left behind -- a blessed mess

"Nature beckons you to be on her side. You couldn't ask for a better boss."

The quote is from Paul Hawken's commencement address, a speech that, days after I read it, is making me think deeply, and not entirely comfortably, on how I might "cast my lot with those who, age after age, perversely, with no extraordinary power, reconstitute the world."

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So if the birds weren't exactly bossing me around this past week, they definitely directed my garden work. Not only are coir-lined baskets environmentally-friendly, they're also a source of building material for birds like Mr. & Mrs. House Finch who have been deconstructing the hanging baskets without regard to tidiness as they tug out fibres, spill soil, discard the little bits, and fly away with full beaks to their nest site. (I suspect it's in a nearby tree with a view.) So everyday for the past couple of weeks I've been spending a good chunk of gardening time sweeping up the fibres, picking them out of the lettuce & other greens, and patching the liners with coffee filters. But I decided to leave the fibrous bits in the pots of polished rocks because...well, I like the natural, unkempt look & it reminds me of the birds who haven't been by for the past couple of days. I suspect their nest-building is complete. Now I just hope the crows don't get to the eggs or babies.

Next year I'm going to put a nesting box in my balcony garden. Does anyone have experience with this on a small balcony?

Tangled up in pink (Clematis)

This past week I've been admiring exuberant, rosy-faced vines among the more reserved, mature trees & shrubs in our condominium's beds & borders. My daily dose (or two or three) of viewing pleasure: Clematis montana from different perspectives as it clambers, twists and tumbles over, under and around the arbors. These vigourous climbers have faithfully bloomed for the past 19 Springs -- the same number that I've lived at this address as we both put down our roots the same year.

Without too much of a stretch (if you allow me a gardener's mindset), I can think of at least three other things we have in common:

1) The need for support to guide & hold us up as we explore new directions.

2)  A preference for planting our feet in the cool shade and turning our faces to the sun.

3) The need for regular, selective pruning to encourage new growth and prevent congestion-- especially as we get older.

The differences between us, beyond the obvious ones? Well, for a start I'm not nearly as pretty in pink -- or any colour for that matter. Nor as agile. More flexibility certainly would help me with the balcony dance.* And my temperament is somewhere in-between a shrinking violet and a bold, somewhat unruly vine. (Truth is I'd really like to be a lily of the valley.)

Clematis, you may not be edible but I like you very much and will make sure there is always one of you nearby, in the common garden or on my balcony. Though it's unintentional on your part, you make me pause and reflect on how I, too, can grow beyond imposed boundaries, endure stresses including neglect, bounce back from severe pruning and reach for the sky while staying grounded and connected.

Do you include a climber in your garden? Please share your favourites in the comments below.

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*The balcony dance is the movement of pots from side to side and back to front so I have room to position a ladder to water the hanging baskets. Involves much bending, lifting, shuffling & stretching -- not necessarily done gracefully.

Morning aromatherapy

This past week I've been inhaling the scent of lilacs on my way to work.

May is full light wind of lilac

From Canada to Narragansett Bay.

- Amy Lowell, “Lilacs” from The Complete Poetical Works of Amy Lowell. Copyright © 1955 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Read the complete poem here.

"Set a table in the garden"

The freshest greens: a living salad bowl

"Set a table in the garden" is a quote on the front of Renee's Garden vegetable seed packages. And yes, I do wish I had space for a table (preferably teak) on my balcony. But there's barely room for the gardener at this time of the season let alone furniture.  This afternoon, though, after I harvested my first crop of lettuce, I couldn't resisting bringing the linen outdoors and setting a placemat on an overturned plant pot -- an improvised table on which to display the salad bowl.

Lettuce & Mesclun varieties in the bowl:

'Cut and Come Again' (Rouge Grenobloise, Royal Oakleaf, Cimarron, Sucrine, Blonde Batavia & Red Salad Bowl)

'Heirloom Cutting Mix' (Speckled Troutback, Blush Butter Cos, Red Ruffled Oak, Green Devil's Tongue, Sucrine)

'Monet's Garden Mesclun' (Little Gem, Dutch Redina, Rouge Grenobloise, Red Salad Bowl and Tango)

'Paris Market Mix' (Curled Endive, Escarole, Chicory 'Blonde', Red Oakleaf, Red Salad Bowl Lettuces, Arugula, Chervil) 

What lettuces are you growing this season?  How do you schedule the sowing so you don't alternate between surplus and scarcity? (As a novice lettuce farmer, I over-planted the first crop.)